


Bind Me, or Undo Me

by kscribbles



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 17:38:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kscribbles/pseuds/kscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever happened (or didnt happen), the journey was worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Begins immediately after "Tooth and Claw." A lot of introspection, some angst, and some conversations--filling in the holes between the end of T&C and a bit past the end of GITF. Thanks to my beta, Principia, who helped me wrestle this one into submission. The title isn't kinky or anything (save that for another fic). It comes from a line spoken by Benedict in "Much ado about Nothing." And let's just say our Doctor has a little more in common with him than just his voice (I just listened to DT's audio version of the play. *swoons*). Written in 2007.

“Right,” the Doctor said, flipping a lever when their laughter had died down. “Where to now? Should we make another go at Sheffield?”

Rose didn’t answer; she only stared at him, taking in his questioning raised eyebrows and the tongue that darted out to moisten his lips in concentration as he awaited her answer. That completely infuriating tongue that she’d recently seen become intimate with a wall, of all things. That was her Doctor. Rude, not ginger, liked to taste things. And _oh,_ Rose thought (as she’d thought approximately a hundred times since he’d last emerged from the TARDIS interior before their werewolf adventure), _he looked positively **tasty**_.

“So? Sheffield? No? Probably right. Best not to tempt fate.”

She still stared. Then quickly darted her gaze to her boots, still muddy from mucking about in the damp.

“Rose?”

When she looked up at him again, it was with an oddly… predatory expression.

“You weren’t hurt at all back there, right?” His eyes were suddenly serious and full of concern. “Wolfie didn’t give _you_ a little nip on the neck or anything?” He flicked her hair back to take a quick look, then moved back to the console.

“No, Doctor. No one’s nipped my _anything_ in a long time,” she replied teasingly.

“Rose!” His hand froze on the button he had just pushed and he stared at her, trying to conceal his shock.

“What? You’re the one who had me running all over all Victorian Scotland _naked_.”

“I didn’t _have_ you. I merely–” He was about to explain how the TARDIS date circuit had malfunctioned when he realized what he’d just said. _Innuendo Squad, indeed,_ he thought, rolling his eyes. Rose grinned at him, tongue between her teeth, then the smile faded into a downright _tantalizing_ expression. He opened his mouth and closed it again. At a loss. Then he grinned wildly, trying to tip the scales of the tension growing between them towards levity and away from heat.

Rose merely raised an eyebrow at him, thinking the Doctor _couldn’t_ know what she was contemplating. She was tired from their adventure and her brain perhaps wasn’t firing on all cylinders, but the thought that had been flitting through her head for the past several moments was that _Sir_ Doctor was wearing _far_ too many clothes. Could it be be, the way he was looking at her… maybe it was time to change things up a bit between them?

She crossed the few feet to him and took his hand off the button it still hovered over and held it in hers. She looked him right in the eye, licking her lips. The Doctor swallowed heavily and tried desperately to keep his eyes from roving over the denim she was covered in, from the loose top that allowed a tantalizing peek down the front to the snug and oh-so-short skirt. His eyes darted quickly from her body to her face, her lips, then eyes again, determined not to show weakness in the face of, well, whatever was happening here.

Holding his gaze, Rose slowly dragged his hand to her mouth and placed a moist kiss on the back of it, enjoying how his eyes widened in shock. She placed nibbling kisses on his fingertips, and still, he said nothing. Emboldened, she summoned everything she’d ever learned about sultry tones and said huskily, “So you were saying? Something about having–”

“A sandwich!” he yelped, snatching his hand from her and literally leaping away towards the interior of the ship. “I could murder a Monte Cristo right about now.” He was rubbing the back of his neck nervously, backing away. “Oh, I had the best one in 1947 in Los Angeles. The things they could do with eggy bread! I should take you there some time. I think I could just about scare up the ingredients in the kitchen, in the meantime. Fancy a sandwich, Rose? I do. Meet you there if you’re hungry.”

With that he turned around and disappeared down the corridor, practically leaving a cloud of dust behind, and a dismayed Rose to gape after him.

“You can _take_ me there,” Rose mumbled gloomily, her snappy, suggestive comment wasted on the empty room. She sat down heavily on the jump seat and blew some stray hairs out of her face. She’d pushed too far, too fast, and now things would be awkward for a while between them.

Maybe it was for the best that she’d stirred things up. Things were heating to a boiling point anyway. Her feelings for him had long ago grown far beyond the friendly. And it wasn’t just about sex–though, God, she wanted that–but she wanted _him_. To know all of him. There was still so much about him she didn’t understand.

But she was _sure_ he wanted her. Had he been human, he would have picked up on the signals she’d been throwing and would have shagged her months ago.

Now he’d certainly gotten the message. He knew she wanted him. But he’d as good as answered back with a firm “This is not happening.”

She needed to fix this. She also needed a good, hot shower. Maybe after it, she’d be more clearheaded.

 

>>

 

Rose’s shower hadn’t revealed any brilliant plans to her, but one thing had become clear: She’d been a git and she needed to get over being rejected and go apologize. She hastily dried off, threw on a pair of comfy pyjamas, and trudged off to find the Doctor.

The Doctor sat at the kitchen table, working out some figures, biro in one hand and part of a giant sandwich in the other. Beside his plate was a neatly placed mallet, as well as the usual assortment of random items Rose was used to seeing whenever he decided to clean out his pockets. Rose spotted a piece of gum, a yo-yo, and a bottle of nail varnish before she shook her head to clear it and decided to get on with it.

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier.”

He glanced up at her briefly, but said nothing, seemingly entranced by his figures.

“For being like that with you,” Rose pressed. “It wasn’t… right of me.”

“Fine, Rose. It’s fine,” he dismissed.

“It isn’t though. You’re not human, I shouldn’t keep expecting you to react like one.”

He was desperate to change the topic of conversation and hoped a bit of prattle would do the trick. “Rose. It happens. Adrenaline rush from meeting a werewolf, being chased around by it a bit. Could happen to the best of us. Misdirected excess of energy. It’s not a big deal. Sandwich?” he offered, gesturing towards her with the half-eaten Monte Cristo.

She didn’t bother to mention that by the time they’d returned to the TARDIS it had been hours since they’d dispatched the werewolf. They’d been knighted and exiled and walked for ages then spent just as long on the back of a cart. Not to mention that the half-eaten remnants of something _resembling_ a Monte Cristo didn’t hold much appeal at the moment.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Your loss,” he mumbled around a mouthful of food as he finished the last bit on his plate.

He got up and put his used plate in the sink. As he turned around to face her, her appearance finally registered. Her pyjamas were simple. A pale pink cotton camisole that barely made it to the hem of her matching bottoms, cropped a few inches above her bare feet. Not designed for seduction, but for comfort. Unfortunately for him, they seemed to have the former effect. He swallowed as the words he was about to say stuck in his throat.

What was wrong with him? He’d seen her in nightclothes before. It had never been an issue. But it’d never been after what was tantamount to a proposition, either. Distracting himself with food and repairs hadn’t helped, and his usual prattling seemed to have failed him. Only a bit of distance and a bit of time would cool what seemed to be intensifying between them. Get things back to normal.

Rose eyed the Doctor in silence, as he appeared to be considering her. She couldn’t suss out what was going through his head. Not that she usually could. But this was different. He was _quiet_.

“Well,” he said suddenly. “You’ll be off to bed then.”

“Yeah, guess so. Just came in to you know, apologize.”

“Right well, I’ve got to see if I can’t sort out that date circuit. Again. Goodnight.” He left the rest of his mess on the table and strode past her on his way out of the kitchen.

Some switch flipped inside Rose and she swallowed some of her pride and decided to go for broke.

“Why don’t you want me?” she asked softly of his retreating figure.

He was struck still by her words and, without turning around, answered just as softly, “Is that what you think?”

“I… yes? What else am I supposed to think?” Hope flared in Rose as the Doctor turned around to face her.

He didn’t know what to tell her. She looked hurt and confused and adorable, and he’d just given her a dash of hope, and how could he let her down gently now? There was no way he could just say, _Yes Rose, you’re a very attractive woman. You’re smart and beautiful and caring, and I think I’m in love with you. I’d desperately like to **make** love to you–take you right now against that counter there, or the table, or on the floor maybe–but I don’t **do** that with companions_. They’d never discussed him having had other companions at all, let alone what his relationships had been with them. How was she to know what was normal?

“I’m not human,” he said, simply.

“I _know_.” She cast her eyes to the floor.

“Do you, though, Rose?” he said with a bit more force than was probably necessary. Dangerously closing the space between them, he clutched at her upper arms, causing her to look up at him in surprise.

“You’re an alien. Told me so, first day I met you. Near as I can figure, all that means is you’ve got two hearts, a big brain, and a tremendous gob. Everywhere else,” she let her eyes slide down his form, taking him in toe to tip before meeting his eyes again, “you seem pretty human to me. Ten fingers, ten toes, all that?”

The Doctor clenched his teeth in frustration. She wasn’t making this easy, and he wasn’t doing himself any favours either, still holding her, terribly reluctant to let go and run away from this. But she was like a magnet. Her eyes were daring him, her lips tempting him, the soft flesh of her arms beneath his hands giving him a hint of what waiting for him, covered by her pyjamas.

“Rose,” he whispered, leaning closer to her. His voice was husky and rough; he cleared his throat, straightened, and let her go before continuing. “Please don’t feel like you’ve done anything wrong. Or that you’re not desirable…”

Rose shrugged free of his hands, crossed her arms, and stared him down, even as his words cut through her. She knew a very pointed rejection was coming, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep her brave face on, as he continued.

“But I _am_ an alien, a Time Lord, and there are rules I live by.”

“What, you have to take an oath of celibacy?”

“Yes!” Her calm question broke his composure. He whirled around, rubbing his hands distractedly through his hair and beginning to pace the confined space of the kitchen. Let her think it was absolutely off the table, not even a possibility; it would be better for them both. “To all intents and purposes, yes! All right?” he barked, gesturing wildly in her direction. “You’re my _companion_ , Rose,” he added with a note of finality, as though nothing more needed to be said.

Rose wasn’t about to beg for his affections, she had a bit of pride left, after all. But she wanted straight answers out of him. He’d just as good as said he wanted her, but was holding back. She deserved to know why. “The rules say, ‘Thou shalt not contaminate thyself with dirty ape companions’?”

The Doctor hesitated to affirm those ugly words on seeing her wounded expression. He nodded tersely, his jaw clenched so tightly he thought he might actually do his teeth injury.

“Whose rules, then?”

He said nothing.

“The Time Lords? They made the rules? I think I know you pretty well, by now, Doctor, and you don’t strike me as the type to just follow the rules handed down to you. Certainly not by a group of high an’ mighties that aren’t even–”

“ _Rose_.” It came out as a warning. He couldn’t tell her he was a total hypocrite, picking and choosing which rules to follow. She’d never understand his refusal, then. Hell, he barely understood it himself. Only he knew he could not let himself get too close to her. He knew with a bone-deep certainty that it’d only lead to disaster. So he let her think he was warning her not to further mention his fallen people.

“Doctor, I’m only saying,” she began more softly.

“Don’t,” he cut her off. “Don’t only say. All right? You couldn’t possibly understand.” Oh, _lovely_ , he thought, taking in her hurt expression. She was already angry with him, now he’d probably insulted her too. _Rassilon_ , he couldn’t put a foot right tonight. He stepped closer to her again and implored her, more gently this time, “Go to bed. Forget this conversation. Forget _this_.” He gestured vaguely between them.

“But–”

“ _Please_ , Rose,” he begged. A Time Lord he might be, but he was still male, and this incarnation had precious little resistance left in him.

Rose saw the struggle in him, and her concern for him finally eclipsed her own hurt feelings. She was being incredibly selfish, pushing him this way. He _did_ want her. But he clearly had his reasons why it couldn’t happen. She trusted him. God, she _loved_ him. He had his reasons, and that would have to be good enough for her, at least for now.

He saw the moment he’d gotten through to her. A tear slipped from one overflowing eye and she nodded curtly. Oh this wasn’t good. He’d gone and made her cry.

“Look Rose, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you–”

She held up a hand. “Don’t.”

Then, as if that small exchange hadn’t just happened, she closed the remaining space between them, leaned up and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“Okay.” She said. “Goodnight then.”

 

 

To be continued...

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=17727>


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever happened (or didnt happen), the journey was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part jumps a bit in time. It begins with Rose's thoughts post School Reunion.

Rose hadn’t thought it would be possible, but things had returned to some semblance of normality in the weeks after the whole post-werewolf fiasco. As close to what passed for normal for a 900-year-old alien and a 20-year-old former shop girl traipsing together across time and space.

Ultimately, their relationship hadn’t seemed to suffer either. If anything, they’d grown closer. With the agreed-upon boundaries firmly in place, he’d appeared freer around her, even more prone to bouts of physical affection—long tight hugs, nudges, more hand-holding, the occasional forehead kiss—so long as the line wasn’t crossed. As much as she wanted more, she wasn’t complaining.

Meeting Sarah-Jane had thrown a spanner into the works. Because Rose _had_ let herself believe she and the Doctor were, essentially, a couple, in every way but sexually. Save that, she thought they were a devoted, exclusive pair. Maybe it was silly of her never to have thought about him having other companions before her, or the relationships he might have had, or the fact that all those relationships had _ended_. Again, she’d pushed his hand, maybe too far.

_You just leave us behind. Is that what you're going to do to me?_

His answers confused her. Sure, she had learned a bit more about why he avoided love (and might have found out more if not for the untimely interruption of that damned flying Krillitane), but by the end of the adventure, she’d actually considered leaving him to spare her own heart.

He’d invited Mickey along despite her silent protest, and it seemed a clear indication that she had been wrong about their relationship. They _were_ just friends. Close friends and not a bit more. She’d contented herself with that notion before, and she’d do it again. Things would certainly be different with Mickey around, but maybe it was for the best. And anyway, Sarah-Jane was right. Whatever happened (or didn’t happen), the journey was worth it.

 

>>

 

The Doctor sipped his wine and gazed wistfully at the stars. Stuck in Versailles. In _1759_. What had he been _thinking_? Oh, he knew. He’d been thinking: _Save Reinette, save history. Rose is tough, she’ll be ok. She’s got Mr. Mickey. I’ll get back to them someway._

He tried to ease the growing ache of loss in his gut by focusing on the positive. He would spend his time in exile with a beautiful woman who adored him, but nevertheless understood and expected that he’d be leaving her at the first opportunity. Reinette wouldn’t want any promises from him, and he wouldn’t have to break any to her.

Was it worth it? Was saving history worth it if Rose was out there, 3000 years in the future on a derelict spaceship, perhaps thinking he’d abandoned her?

The answer haunted him.

There hadn’t been time to explain that it would only be a detour. After all, his previous selves had been all _over_ this time period—he could turn up at one of his old haunts begging a lift some time in the next few years. Rose even knew that he’d been at the Boston Tea Party.

He’d just have to make sure that when he did get back, however he ended up managing it, he’d have to show up as close as possible to when he left. And to hope it wasn’t too late.

Reinette appeared at his side to distract him from his despondent thoughts. She was a vision. If he tried very, _very_ hard, he could be happy while he was here with her, instead of preoccupied with the future—the current future where Rose waited and the future future of what would happen when he got back to her.

When Reinette asked for his hand, and lead him towards her bedroom, he was sure it was to seduce him properly. And he was just about ready to be seduced. Reinette offered few complications. She was a courtesan, skilled in her art, and not one to love exclusively or mind if he didn’t either. He wanted to forget everything momentarily, to lose himself and the dismal reality of being stranded here in her pampering and attention. These were the sorts of pleasures he’d denied himself for so long for so many reasons, and if he couldn’t go home…

But when he saw the fireplace she’d had moved from her childhood bedroom, all thoughts of taking the solace Reinette offered flew from his mind. This could be a way back to his Rose! It _had_ to be.

 

>>

 

After the Doctor’s final return from 18th century France, Mickey had dragged Rose from him, under the guise of wanting a tour of the TARDIS. He could tell when a bloke just wanted to be left alone. And the ship was _huge_ , larger than he could wrap his head around. They’d been wandering for what seemed like forever.

“And behind that door,” she pointed, “is the pool.”

“You’re kidding me, there’s a swimming pool on this ship?”

Rose just smiled and nodded towards the door.

Mickey approached it, opened it a crack, poked his head in and then slammed it back shut. “I don’t believe it! There really is a full-on, Olympic-sized pool in there. How’s that even possible?”

“Wait ‘til I show you see the water park downstairs,” she said seriously. Wait, _was_ she serious? This place was crazy! “Mickey, how’s the inside bigger than the outside? It just is. It’s all impossible.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him down the hall. “C’mon, let’s go find you a bedroom.”

She missed the suggestive look he gave her at her words, and then he realized it was probably better that way. Down another corridor that looked exactly like the other 72 they’d been down in the last two hours, and Rose stopped and pointed at yet another identical door.

“There, I think this should be it.”

“You think?”

“Well, this is where the bedrooms are. Mine’s a few doors down, see.” She gestured vaguely down the hall. “Go on, have a look,” she said when he hesitated at the handle of the door.

“What will it be like, Rose?”

“Just think about what you’d want, and if she’s capable, and in a good mood, _and_ if she likes you, the TARDIS will make it for you.”

Mickey boggled at her. “What, like a genie? I just wish for it, and it appears.”

Rose shrugged, as if it wasn’t something completely miraculous. “Within reason, yeah.”

Mickey did as she said and closed his eyes to consider the ideal bedroom. He opened them and the door at the same time. He gasped in surprise at what he saw. Inside, it looked… just like his bedroom in his flat back home.

“ _That’s_ your ideal bedroom?” Rose said dryly over his shoulder.

“Well, I couldn’t think of anything that fast. That’s lots of pressure on a bloke. Besides, plenty of happy memories in this bed,” he said walking into the room and flopping onto it. He flashed her a grin, and she returned a mild smile. He’d hoped for at least a giggle. Then his eyes landed on the one thing that _wasn’t_ like back home—the flash entertainment centre the TARDIS had given him. The latest in everything and then some, it seemed. “Rose, look at this!” He excitedly picked up the impossibly complex-looking remote and pressed random buttons, hoping to fire it all up.

Rose came around to see. She smirked and huffed, sliding into a chair. “Typical. Big screen and video games.”

“Rose, this is fantastic,” he said picking up a game case. “ _Halo 3_ isn’t even due out for at least another six months!”

She didn’t seem impressed. He’d been trying to cheer her up with his enthusiasm—hoped she’d join him in a game, or moan about boys and their toys while he played, or _something_ , but after a few minutes of his raving about everything the TARDIS had provided, Rose still sat rigidly, looking for all the world like she’d rather be somewhere else. He sighed.

“It’s okay, Rose. Go ahead.”

“Go ahead, what?” she asked distantly.

“Go on and go to him,” he answered, explaining as if she were a kid. “You know you want to.”

“No, I’m fine here. This is… fun. And you were right, he looked like he needed some alone time.”

“He needs _you_.” Mickey couldn’t believe that those words had just come out of his mouth, but he also couldn’t deny their truth. Quickly he amended, “He needs a mate. Seemed pretty torn up about whatever happened. So go on, I’ll be fine. Have plenty to keep me busy ‘til I fall asleep.”

“Yeah, or your eyeballs fall out of your head,” Rose agreed with a small laugh, “I guess the TARDIS saw to that.” She stood uncertainly. “What should I say to him, though?”

He raised his hands in the ‘I surrender’ posture. “Oh no, I’m not getting in the middle of that. Just be a friend. And don’t yell at him for leaving us. Not yet, anyway.”

Rose looked surprised. “ _You’re_ telling _me_ to be nice to him?”

“Well, he _is_ the designated driver. Don’t want him chucking _me_ out because you two have a tiff. Off you go.” He waved her away, focusing on the telly again. A moment later, he heard his door snick shut.

 

To be conclued...

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=17727>


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever happened (or didnt happen), the journey was worth it.

Rose found the Doctor in the first room she checked. He was in his study. It was like the library, but much smaller and with only slightly fewer books. Two leather chairs, angled in towards a small coffee table, nestled amongst the organized chaos of the piles of books that were on his ‘current’ reading list.

He sat in one of the chairs, Chucks propped up on the table, book in his lap–a picture of relaxation–but for his eyes that seemed to focus past the facing wall, staring off into nothing.

“Doctor?”

“Rose!” He seemed surprised to see her, but gave her a smile anyway. “What are you doing here? Thought you were off giving Mickey the grand tour.”

“Yeah. I was. The TARDIS gave him a deluxe entertainment centre. Last time I saw him, he was knee-deep in warthogs or somethin’.”

“Ah,” he answered, in complete understanding. “Last we’ll see of him, then?”

Rose giggled nervously and slid into the chair opposite him.

“Mind if I sit?”

“’Course not. _Mi TARDIS es su TARDIS_.”

Rose knew his joviality was a thin cover. She hadn’t seen him like this in a long while. She didn’t know for certain what had happened. She only knew that Madame de Pompadour hadn’t come back with him like he’d planned. And that it hurt him. Rose stamped down the pang of jealousy that bubbled up at the thought. This wasn’t about her.

The Doctor was her best friend, and it was her duty to help him if he was hurting. More than that, she _wanted_ to help him, to soothe him. If she allowed herself any selfish impulses, she’d admit that, more than anything, she wanted to seize the opportunity to _understand_ him.

But she had no idea how she might go about comforting him. He’d just say nothing was wrong. Again. So to fill the quiet that was settling between them, she blurted out the first words that came to her mind.

“Was she gone?” _Dead_ , she’d narrowly missed saying. But the Doctor didn’t reply, so she did ask plainly then–anything to get him to talk.

“Doctor, had she died?”

Rose cringed inwardly as the sound of her own bluntness hit her ears. The Doctor looked up sharply at her, a flash of anger in his eyes, before it was replaced with the sorrow she’d seen a glimpse of earlier in the console room. She was sure she’d blundered horribly, but he answered her calmly and simply.

“Yes. Unstable time window. It should’ve been minutes, a few weeks at most, but instead it was years. I was too late.” He went back to contemplating the book in his lap.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be done for it.” He stood, pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the door. “Look, I need to go fiddle with the TARDIS a bit, there’s that loose bolt that needs fixing, keeps rattling on dematerialization and…” he trailed off.

He clearly was uncomfortable talking about this, and thus brushing her off, but she wasn’t about to let him run away and avoid her.

“Don’t go.” her voice was barely above a whisper.

“But I have to… fiddle.”

“Please, Doctor. Sit back down. Talk to me. I just want to help, I promise.”

His eyes flashed at that. “Talk about what, Rose? There isn’t–”

“But there is, though!” She got up to stand before him, and took his hands in hers. “Look, I know how you feel–”

“You don’t–”

“Maybe not exactly, but I know a friend in pain when I see one.”

“Rose.” His patience with this was clearly wearing thin.

“No, just listen to me, Doctor. You remember when my Dad died, yeah?”

“This is nothing like that, Rose!” He pulled away from her, ready to stalk off.

“Right. I know my _father_ couldn’t measure up to ‘one of the most accomplished women who ever lived,’ but–” Rose shut her mouth mid-sentence before she could _really_ put her foot in it, but it got his attention, nonetheless. He turned back to her, a warning in his eyes. She continued, undeterred, but gentler in her approach.

“And anyway, I’m not talking about it being the same as that. I’m talking about what you did for me after. Remember? You just held me and let me talk. All night. Let me cry on you, let me blather on about anything and everything. About my dad, my mum, my friends, growing up on the estate. Remember? Do you know how much better I felt because of that? Because I had someone to listen?”

She knew he remembered. Could see it on his face.

“Rose,” he said more tenderly this time. “I appreciate your concern. Really, I do. But you don’t have to do that. I don’t need any shoulder to cry on.”

“Fine, don’t. But talk to me. About anything. Just don’t…don’t be alone, right now. Okay?”

She couldn’t interpret the look he gave her just then. It seemed like a million emotions were running through him at once, but she knew she’d gotten through.

He sighed, giving in. “Fine.” He brushed past her to slump back in the chair he’d vacated. He picked up his book again, as if to say he no intention of actually speaking, but his eyes stayed on her.

Rose returned to her chair and pulled it as close to his as possible, so close their knees were nearly touching.

He stared at her expectantly, those unquantifiable emotions still visibly roiling through him. Still unsure where to begin, Rose figured it was best to stick to the subject at hand, rather than try to make him talk about his past or something equally as uncomfortable for him.

“What did you think would have happened?”

“Hmm?”

“If you’d arrived in time, and she’d come back with you, to the TARDIS?”

“I dunno. Couldn’t have taken her for long, of course. Maybe just a jaunt to the closest planet with a breathable atmosphere. Couldn’t risk her knowing too much about the Earth’s future or past. Plus… she had to go back to…” He sighed and tossed his book on the table. “Couldn’t ruin history and not have her die on time, could I?”

He sat back in his chair and examined the green glass of a nearby lampshade.

“The four of us? That would have worked?”

He looked back at her, swallowed heavily. “Could have done. Maybe not. It’s for the best, probably.”

“Not if you’re so broken up about it,” she said tenderly, setting a hand lightly on his knee, encouraging him to continue.

“I’m… I’m upset for her, Rose. She must have thought I abandoned her. That can’t be a very nice feeling.”

“No,” Rose simply agreed.

“She died thinking it, Rose.”

“She died hoping you’d come back,” she pointed out. “You gave her something to look forward to.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because she _cared_ about you. And it’s what I’d feel… in her place.”

Rose could still hear Reinette in her head, _But you and I both know, don't we, Rose? The Doctor is worth the monsters_. She had just about admitted to Reinette that she loved him. She hoped that the Doctor would sidestep the fact that she’d nearly done the same now.

“You gave her hope,” she repeated.

He sighed again, dejectedly. “I didn’t give her… anything.”

“You saved her head from those clockwork things!”

“You know what I mean.”

“You didn’t love her in return, you mean?”

He nodded slightly. “I didn’t come back for _her_.”

Rose sucked in a breath as his eyes met hers. The intensity in his gaze bowled her over. She didn’t dare to hope that he was implying what she thought he might be–that it wasn’t _Reinette_ that he loved.

“But…” she began unsteadily, tears suddenly prickling in her eyes, “But you… did.”

“Rose,” he said, apparently changing tack. He leaned forward and placed a cool hand on her cheek. Softly he asked, “Didn’t you doubt me for a minute? Didn’t you doubt that I’d come back from 18th century France for you?”

“No, not really,” she barely whispered.

“You have too much faith in me.”

Rose’s heart began to hammer in her chest as he whispered the last. He slid his hand into her hair, then to the back of her head, cupping it, pulling her gently forward. He leaned in further and just barely grazed his lips over hers. He pulled away flopping gracelessly back into the chair.

Looking towards the wall again, he continued, pensively, “I was going to stay–to be with her until I figured out a way to return to that ship. It could have taken years. I knew it when I rode Arthur through that mirror. I’d somehow figured it as an acceptable consequence. I had an interesting, talented woman eager and willing to ease my jolt into linear living, and I thought that would be enough to get me through however long it would take to get back. But the second I saw that fireplace, Rose, all I could think of was you.”

Rose wasn’t sure about this. She was slightly addled by his brief kiss, but not enough to affect her memory. She’d seen the way he rushed off, eager to bring Reinette back through the time window. She hadn’t felt at all like the centre of his attention then. “You don’t have to make me feel better, Doctor. I know you were gutted when you came back without her.”

“Yes, I was. But I have you, Rose. You’re like a healing salve. A balm to cure all ills, that’s my Rose.” He gave her a slight smile and took her hand in his.

She was entirely unsure how to respond to his statement. And she was still confused about Madame de Pompadour and what she meant to the Doctor. “But Doctor, she…you and her… you…?” She didn’t even know what she was asking him.

Instead of continuing along that path she asked, “Doctor, what happened to Arthur?”

She was rewarded with a hint of a grin before the Doctor launched into story-telling mode and regaled her with tales of the French Court. Then, moving on from that he delighted her with some of the more scandalous stories to be found in royal courts throughout time and space. It still amazed her how many things she’d thought were exclusive to humans turned out to be universal.

Surprisingly, after some hours passed in this more light-hearted discussion, the Doctor himself brought the subject back to Madame de Pompadour.

“She taught me something, I think, Rose.”

“What?”

He snorted a bit, self-deprecatingly, “I’m a Time Lord, should have known it already.”

“What?” She prompted again.

“Time. The littlest thing can happen, and you run out of it.”

“Oh.”

“All over, throughout space and time, people are wasting chances at happiness.” He took her hand again. “I don’t…” he sniffed, looked away, and swallowed. Then, apparently composing himself, he looked back at her intently, leaning close again, “I don’t want to run out of time with _you_.”

If he meant what she thought he did, than this talk was about to go better than she ever expected, but…

“But Doctor, what about you rules?”

“Sod the rules. I’m the only one left, Rose. I can make my own rules.”

“Doctor,” she began tentatively. What if he only wanted her now to push through his grief? She didn’t know if she could handle that. But to talk him out of kissing her again? She’d have to be mad. She wanted him more than anything; already desire was growing in the pit of her stomach. Still, she didn’t want to be responsible for any more of his regrets. She had to be sure.

“I… I don’t want you to do anything that… not because of… because you lost her, but…”

“Because I want you?” He finished the thought for her.

“Yeah. Do you?”

“Yes.”

His answer was firm and immediate, and his eyes implored her to understand the truth behind it. Rose let her free hand trail up to his face. His gaze held hers as she ghosted her fingertips over his brow, nose, lips, before finally cupping his cheek. She was stalling, building her nerve and her resolve to question him a final time.

“You’re sure about this?”

“No,” he croaked. “Honestly, I have no idea if it’s the right thing to do. Getting attached this way–it goes against everything I ever learned as a Time Lord. But I am already so attached to you. And I’m sure I want this.” He kissed her again, harder and longer than the first time.

Just as she started to respond, he pulled back again.

“Doctor?”

He grabbed her other hand and pulled her to her feet and out of the way of the chairs and table.

“Bad angle,” he explained before sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her towards him.

“I thought maybe you’d fancied another sandwich.” She grinned at the confused expression on his face. “Like the last time I kissed you.”

Realization dawned on him and he gave her a grin in return. The first really genuine smile she’d seen all evening. It warmed her, just as sure as his hands that were lazily tracing patterns at her hips.

“But _I_ kissed _you_ ,” he pointed out.

“Right. So no sandwich runs, then?” She wasn’t letting him run away. Not again, not this time.

“No. Not even a peanut butter and banana. Weeelll….” he paused to consider. “Maybe _after._ ”

She felt a shudder run through her and a flush sting her cheeks as he raised a brow.

“Slow down there, tiger. We do this, we do it right. Take our time, yeah?”

He considered her a moment before agreeing. “Right, that is, _after_ a thorough snogging.” He nodded. “A _very_ thorough snogging, after which you will promptly head off to bed. Alone. So that when we do do this, we’re both clear-headed and not encumbered in any way by any… distractions.”

Rose could only nod in response. She was suddenly overwhelmed by the need to unsettle him just as he did her, so she reached her hands up into his hair and drew his lips down to meet hers.

This kiss was unlike any of the previous. Immediately it deepened, and Rose felt her whole body ignite as his tongue swept into her mouth. She slid her hands to his shoulders and held on as she danced her tongue around his, trying to keep up with his frantic pace. His hands were busy too, slipping beneath the hem of her t-shirt, sliding against the skin of her back.

With little warning, and without breaking the kiss, he hauled her up so her back was against the nearest wall, pressing his whole frame intimately against hers. She moaned at the onslaught of sensation and he released her lips, only to pepper kisses at the corner of her mouth, her jaw, her throat, then up towards an ear.

When he reached it he removed his hands from her skin and whispered low, “Nighty night, Rose. To be continued.”

 

FIN

 

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=17727>


End file.
